I Can't Help But Help Myself
by Gwydion
Summary: [Dice, Camera, Action!] [Paultin Seppa] "But you don't need them anymore. You don't need anyone anymore. All you need is my eternal cold." (Takes place during episode 81.)


Disclaimer: I do not own Dice, Camera, Action or Dungeons and Dragons. Title from the song "Branded" by Nathan Sharp. Spoilers for episode 81.

 **I Can't Help But Help Myself**

Cold lips parted, a slow breath escaping in a puff of white that was quickly born away on the swirling wind as Paultin quietly surveyed the deathly silent jungle clearing. Trees, grass, flowers, vines, everything sparkled as the early morning sunlight danced across their crystallized surfaces, the ice that covered them forever preserving this exact moment in time. There was a satisfying crunch beneath his boots as he carelessly wandered out from the epicenter of the frozen flora, his bright blue eyes sweeping back and forth, taking it all in.

"...huh."

 _ **She deserves it.**_

His footsteps came to a halt in front of a tiny plant creature whose mouth hung open, a look of panic glistening in its wide, ice-covered eyes. Next to it sat another. And beyond it, another. And another. And another. With a turn of his head he guessed there to be maybe thirty in all, each of their faces displaying the fear of cornered prey.

 _ **She needs to suffer.**_

A quiet rustle of leaves stole his attention away from the carnage, and as he looked up, he caught the shape of a small figure bounding through the foliage, heading in the one direction he wouldn't allow it to go. He raised a hand.

"Don't think so, little guy."

Rather than the fierce cold of the ring's magic, a softer, warmer spell wound its way through the air, touching every waking creature with a soothing caress until all was still and sounds of light breathing reached his ears.

 _ **She ruined everything.**_

Striding toward the edge of the untouched jungle, he glanced around until the sleeping body of the vegepygmy came into view. Seeing it lying there, helpless and vulnerable, he absently touched the ring, twisting it on his finger. It reminded him, showed him what he had done to the creature's brethren, conjuring visions of what her reaction would be and the pleasure he would gain from her torment. Why stop at thirty? Why not thirty-one?

The severed hand, as if sensing the temptation through their psychic link, crawled on to his shoulder. Its fingers twitched with excitement, egging him on, gripping his shoulder more and more firmly as the ring fed its vengeful ideas into Paultin's brain.

 _ **It's her fault you had to leave.**_

No. He quickly turned and stormed off, making sure to head in the exact opposite direction that the creature had been trying to take. The hand tapped his shoulder irritably.

"I'm leaving it alive for a reason, now just chill."

She would be more likely to find the rest if there was someone to direct her there. What was the point of all this if she didn't find them? And how would she if she didn't know where to look? That was all there was to it. He wasn't sparing it. He wasn't. He was giving it a mission.

Seeming pleased with the plan, the hand crawled back into his bag, waiting contently for the true moment of triumph. Paultin ignored it, continuing forward at a brisk pace with no immediate destination in mind.

 _ **She turned them against you.**_

A firm tug on his sleeve finally caught his attention. Whirling around to confront whatever had grabbed him, he faltered and blinked.

"Hey, Simon. What's up?"

The marionette motioned down his front which was covered in mud before placing his hands on his little wooden hips with a silent huff.

"D'you fall?"

Simon nodded and then mimed a running motion, pointing at Paultin accusingly.

"...because I was walking too fast?"

Simon nodded again.

With a sigh, Paultin crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet with his arms resting on his thighs.

"Look, I'm sorry, ok? I just - I just got a lot on my mind right now."

This time the marionette's huff was accompanied by a crossing of his arms over his filthy chest.

"Alright. I get it - you're upset. That's fair. But I need you to be a good boy right now and..."

Paultin's words trailed off when he realized Simon was no longer looking at him, the doll's head instead turned a near 180 degrees around, wide, wooden eyes staring off in the direction he'd been so desperately hurrying away from moments earlier. The knot that had been in his stomach for days grew tighter, larger, and Paultin watched silently as his robot son slowly began to turn his head back toward him, Simon's eyes very deliberately glancing from him to the path they'd just walked.

Paultin.

Evelyn - Strix - Diath.

Paultin.

 _ **But you don't need them anymore.**_

With another loud sigh, he pushed himself back up and raised the hand wearing the Ring of Winter. Touching it, he gazed at it for a moment, transfixed by its power, before turning away from Simon, balling his hand into a tight fist and holding it above his head. It seemed to glow with an unearthly force, eager with anticipation.

"Let's do this."

Creating a bird or dinosaur from ice had seemed like child's play compared to this, but the ring knew what it was doing, instructing him in how much snow was needed and when to add some of his hair until an hour later, exhausted, Paultin was staring at an exact copy of himself. Simultaneously, they both pointed a finger at each other, identical stunned looks on their faces.

"Woah..."

Everything was exactly the same - the flecks in the eyes, the length of the sideburns, the mole on the left palm. It was strange and a bit unsettling, but also undeniably cool. He only managed to tear his gaze away when Simon boldly walked up to the doppelganger and gave it a sharp poke, eliciting both an obscenity and a scolding.

 _ **You don't need anyone anymore.**_

The amused smile he hadn't even realized he'd been making slipped from Paultin's face as he watched the simulacrum and marionette annoy each other. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, you. Uh, you, fake not-nearly-as-handsome Paultin." Successfully gaining everyone's attention, he continued. "Yeah, look, I'm gonna need you to take Simon back to the others and just, uh... hang for a while. As long as you can. Think you can do that?"

The ice clone made some kind of sarcastic retort, but Paultin didn't hear it as he felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down into the ever-staring face of Simon.

"You go with this, uh, guy. I've - I've got some stuff to take care of. I need you to make sure he doesn't make me look too bad. You got me?"

Holding out a fist, he waited until at last Simon reluctantly reached up and bumped it with his own, the marionette nodding in understanding.

"Good boy. Oh, and one more thing..."

Paultin reached into his bag, feeling around for a bit before he finally grasped what he was looking for and pulled it out. The weight of the Sunsword's hilt in his palm made him pause momentarily, the warmth from it of a different sort than the stifling jungle. But with this, the simulacrum's disguise would be complete. There would be little chance of being found out any time soon. The clone could remain by their side. It was all part of the plan.

Besides, he didn't need its warmth anymore.

He held out the hilt for his copy to take, pausing, his brow furrowed in concentration, before carefully offering up his last command.

"Be the Paultin they deserve."

 _ **All you need is my eternal cold.**_

The severed hand had made its way back up Paultin's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as he momentarily watched Simon and the simulacrum wander back the way he'd come. He had no further attachments now, his former traveling party and so-called son no longer a weight to drag him down.

 _ **The world will be covered in ice and snow, and we shall rule it as one.**_

Stroking the Ring of Winter with his thumb, feeling the raw power pulsing through it, he turned and walked off, his pale, ice blue eyes seeing nothing but a future of a frozen wasteland waiting for him.

* * *

A/N: ...I was never, ever planning to write a fic for this show. I find it very intimidating, writing a story about characters that would likely be so personal to their creators due to them literally playing out the scenes every week with no clue what will be thrown at them next, especially when said players have a tendency to actually read said fiction written about them. But this wouldn't stop bothering me until I wrote it. I hope I did Paultin (and Simon and the Ring of Winter) justice.

As always, critics and grammar police are appreciated! (Just please no DnD police - I am aware some details don't fit with the exact rules of the game! Consider it artistic license!)


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